


Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together)

by CaffeinatedWriter



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family Bonding, Everything will work out, Gen, Klaus has anxiety, Slight canon deviation, Vanya is cared for, season one spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedWriter/pseuds/CaffeinatedWriter
Summary: Klaus has always used the past to ground himself to the present.





	Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together)

Klaus remembers finding out about Vanya’s book not long after it was published and thinking, in the blurry kind of way he thinks everything these days, that he’s thrilled one of them had the nerve to do it. Even more specifically that he’s proud it was  _her_ of all of them.

She was the one of them who needed it most maybe, quiet and polite in her suffering till now.

Staring at the somehow still familiar sight of his teenage sister’s portrait on the glossy cover of the books stacked high in the window of the bookstore a block from his dealer’s place, it seems right and just that Vanya get to be the one throwing a glaringly public middle finger to their old man.

He smiles back at the stoic little girl he knows more than whoever his sister is these days and then he promptly forgets about it. Klaus was never a reader; that was always Ben’s designated dad-approved personality trait.

Not a week later and he overdoses for the umpteenth time, ending his ass right back into rehab without much fanfare. Just another rotation in the mindless cycle that his life had fallen into. Another couple weeks of gritting his teeth as the voices of junkies past rang louder and louder with each passing day.

It only takes a few days before he feels like he’s drowning.

It’s unclear what drives him to think of it. Maybe he assumes reading Dad’s shitty parenting get called out to the world will lift his spirits. Hell, maybe he’s looking for comfort in a twisted sort of nostalgia. Whatever it is, it has Klaus charming one of the newer nurses unused to his antics into going out and grabbing him a copy.

He’s all toothy smiles when she hands it over while he buzzes from the inside out as the girl's mother screams into his ear all the things she wishes she’d said.

Klaus still isn’t a reader but in some glorious, undeserved twist of fate, Ben very much still is.

Late at night when Klaus has given up on the idea of sleep, Ben curls behind him and reads out the story of their childhood in cuttingly sensitive detail, pausing every so often when Klaus begins to doze and is late to turn the page.

In the end, he’s not proud. He’s not thrilled. He’s angry.

Hurt but not surprised.

It’s one thing for Vanya to bring light to their upbringing. Maybe Klaus doesn’t want to sit in a circle every few months and spill his tragic origin story while the other mindless bastards queue up to tell their own but he’s not particularly bothered if the information is readily available.

If some crackhead wants to read about Klaus’ daddy issues to validate their own trainwreck of a life, more power to them.

But of course, their sister couldn’t stop herself from spilling bitter heartache onto the page. It wasn’t only Reginald Hargreeves that had sent her spiraling down the path of a vengeful outcast with a story to tell. Oh no, it was their fault too, wasn’t it? Her siblings who’d had the nerve to find pockets of happiness in the everlasting shit show that was the Umbrella Academy.

Ben reads each antidote with a steady, unwavering voice that does nothing to give away his own hurt but Klaus knows anyways because as Vanya is so eager to mention, Ben’s time in the living was monopolized by Klaus’ selfish need for stability.

What the ever living fuck?

Joke was on Vanya though. Even in death, Klaus was the sole recipient of Ben’s time and effort.

The night Ben reads out the last of Vanya’s spite, Klaus stares dead ahead at the dirty white wall while he tries to process how someone could so pointedly weaponize any momentary happiness he’d ever experienced.

Somehow, those memories felt shameful now. Poison burning the edges of his mind where they once soothed. Klaus always was the sentimental one of the group, though it seemed Vanya rivaled him in remembering petty childhood bullshit.

Included in this tell-all are all the pivotal moments she needs to paint the picture of a family hellbent on ostracizing their poor, un-noteworthy sibling which Klaus personally thinks is so fucking skewed from the reality of seven kids just trying to survive a shared hell.

Klaus had never been particularly close to Vanya but in the same boat, he’d never been especially close to Luther or Five either. Their interests just hadn’t lined up. That was normal for siblings though – for normal ass siblings with their two human parents living their powerless, mundane lives.

Had Vanya wanted anything more? Klaus can’t recall any effort made on her part for an especially deep relationship with him personally and yet she’d still found it in herself to commit to memory every negative interaction they’d ever had.

It’s not a personal attack on him. There’s tons of shit about Diego’s ‘unhealthy reliance on Mom’ and something that skirts just a little too close to the truth of Luther and Allison’s weird bullshit. Ben escapes personalized criticism through the sheer tragedy of his death though he doesn’t miss the fact that mentions of him are soaked heavy with the general blame they’re all placed with.

Except Five but then, Five was always Vanya’s favorite.

Klaus knows he was no great brother but at worst, he was mediocre. A little bit of a nuisance the way brothers are.

His mentions are minor, and maybe something about that hurts too, but worst of all might be how she doesn’t hesitate to detail the time they were fifteen and Klaus quite literally slammed his bedroom door into her face.

She calls it out rather poetically as a shining metaphor for how her siblings all shut her out of their lives and Klaus has to stop himself from giggling hysterically at the absolute hypocrisy of it, as if they’d all been so warmly open to each other except for poor, lonely Vanya.

Klaus can’t remember the last time Luther said anything to him that didn’t immediately portray that his brother thought he was not only stupid but beyond help. Can’t remember the last time Allison said  _anything_  to him at all.

He remembers that day pretty well though, even without the book’s dramatic retelling to jog his memory.

The way he could just make out her choked out sob over the deafening, frantic beating of his own heart ramming against his ribs. The way the door felt cold and heavy against his back as he used his lanky teen body to barricade it closed as if Vanya would try to rip it open.

How truly awful he’d felt about it but not nearly as awful as he’d feel if Dad found out Vanya had walked in on his son with a fist down his pants while he stared holes into one of the magazines he’d stolen from Allison.

When they hit their teens, Allison had found an interest in teen mags and gossip rags that highlighted the Hollywood lifestyle she had her eye on and Klaus subsequently had found an interest in muscular dudes with cocky smiles modeling cologne or who the fuck even cares what.

Even Klaus with his skewed sense of boundaries and inappropriate mouth that seemed to run even more than he intended it to could tell how completely out of line it was to share that story with the world, as if Vanya had any right to give away those details. To share that information in something she’d written with the hopes of getting Dad’s attention.

Just because Klaus had been a shitty teenage boy with a secret he’d never been good at keeping.

She reduces Klaus’ drug habit to the least effective kind of attention seeking without any sign she sees the hilarious irony that is abundantly present through the pages of her memoir.

It becomes extra funny when he reflects on how it was always about diminishing attention. Silencing the mournful, demanding voices no one else was obligated to hear.

Vanya could have that attention, if she wanted. He’d be more than happy to share.

Ben says nothing and Klaus doesn’t like that at all because Ben is the emotionally mature one of the two of them and if he doesn’t know what to say, Klaus is a lost cause. The nothing hanging between them feels like a heavy burden and it’s not like Klaus held a gun to Vanya’s head and told her to write but somehow this feels like his fault anyways.

Ben internalizes everything and in some ways, Klaus does too but mostly he works through his feelings with rambling them out. Now might not be the most appropriate time, huddled on a cot in a building filled to the brim with addicts.

“Do you remember,” Klaus asks, clumsily breaking the silence. “When we were seven?"

Ben doesn’t answer for a long time, what feels like forever, like he’s afraid to encourage whatever this is going to be. Because Klaus is sentimental and easily hurt and inclined to spiral down single trains of thought if you let him.

“I remember being seven, yeah,” Ben finally settles on with a tone like he’s being tortured by one of Dad’s famous drawn out lectures. As if Ben would ever have had a  _tone_  with Dad. Klaus giggles a little under his breath.

“Asshole. That time Dad left for a couple hours. The first time since Mom replaced all the nannies. It was some, I dunno. Money thing. Whatever old rich guys spend their time doing when they’re not torturing the seven kids they bought. We convinced Mom to take us to the park?” he clarifies, in case Ben is going to try to pretend he doesn’t know what Klaus is talking about even though he always knows what Klaus is talking about.

“Before the storm.”

Klaus perks up at the comment.

“Yes! Before the storm. The sky was fucking apocalyptic looking and the girls were worried about going but we convinced them it was perfect. No risk of running into other kids, or anyone. Just us getting to run around outside like assholes for a little bit.”

Like normal kids. Klaus doesn’t say that though and Ben doesn’t answer so Klaus just nods to himself.

“We were playing tag but Vanya was, I don’t even fucking know. Not playing tag. Probably worrying about the rain or counting trees or some shit. And Luther was just, fucking awful at controlling his shit. Just a real grade A embarrassment as Dad’s golden child-”

“Klaus,” Ben interrupts, leveling him with a look that just screams of thirteen year old Ben trying to keep the peace and it makes Klaus’ stomach hurt in ways he doesn’t want to think about. He just offers back a little lopsided grin.

“He tagged you too hard. You fell into me and I-” He stops and thinks about that day. Klaus can almost remember the way the air felt and that’s something he’s not wholly familiar with. Remembering anything so vividly. So maybe the edge of sobriety wasn’t the worst place to be in all cases. “I fell into Vanya."

And Vanya had fallen into an ant pile. Absolutely wrecked the thing, ants spilling out of the ground like a small scale natural disaster. It seemed to happen in slow motion and then both Ben and Klaus were scrambling over as she pushed herself to her feet, shaking.

“We’re sorry! Are you okay? We’re sorry!” Klaus spits out franticly as his sister’s eyes bubble over with tears. At the same moment, rain starts to fall in fat droplets that are borderline painful as they pelt into his skin.

In the background, Klaus can make out the sound of his siblings realizing it’s raining. Luther is, as always, playing at authority and urging them to make their way back to Mom at the edge of the park. Diego’s already halfway there after hauling ass towards her at the first sign of conflict.

He’s aware of all of this but all he can focus on is the way Vanya’s shoulders shake as she starts to cry, crouching down to stare at the ruins of the ant hill.

Klaus feels guilt churn sickeningly in his stomach. They’re working on this, him and Mom. His habit of hurling himself too far over the line only to end up sick from the regret. That’s not the same as this; it was an accident but that doesn’t change the fact that Vanya’s the nice one and it’s his fault she’s crying.

“Vanya. Klaus. We have to go now,” Ben urges from where he’s standing over her. He leans down to touch her arm and she jolts, another sob, and then the wind is picking up. In the distance, thunder rumbles where there was none a moment ago and still, Vanya won’t allow herself to be budged.

“Didn’t mean to,” she gasps out and Klaus crouches down beside her as the rain picks up, smacking heavily onto the ground. He can barely hear her, it’s so loud. The three of them are quickly getting soaked but Vanya’s focus is still on the ants franticly scurrying around. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to."

“It’s okay, Vanya! It’s okay! They’re fine,” Klaus reassures her, realizing the problem. Vanya’s the nice one. Of course she’d care about the ants. She just shakes her head though, dark strands of hair clinging to her forehead.

Klaus’ heart hammers in his chest as lightening lights up the sky overhead. They really have to go. The rain is becoming a serious problem and none of them are really sure if it’s safe for Mom to be out. If it’s even safe for them to be out anymore.

Or worse, the weather could cause Dad to come home and then he’d be greeted with an empty house. Greeted with seven drenched kids who hadn’t done what they’re told. He could take Mom away and then the nannies would come back and Diego would cry when he thought they couldn’t hear him like he sometimes did before Mom.

Klaus doesn’t want Mom to go away and he doesn’t want Vanya to cry.

“Some of the ants died,” he says, yelping when Vanya only cries louder and Ben kicks him. They share an intense look where Klaus tries to convey that he knows what he’s doing and then he turns back to Vanya. “But it’s okay! Cause they’re telling me, they said they never really liked that hill anyways. There wasn’t enough bathrooms. And…and they put the door in the wrong place. So they’re happy that the others can build a better home. They’re gonna watch over them while they rebuild it, so it’s okay.”

Like a miracle, Vanya’s sobbing quiets and the rain slows to a more manageable pace.

“Yeah, and I told them how big our house is and how we still only have three bathrooms,” Klaus continues even though it’s obvious he hasn’t said anything at all to these supposed ant ghosts. “And you know what? They think we should tear our house down and start again too. What do you think?”

Klaus smiles as the question sends Vanya bursting into hiccuped, wet laughter.

“You got really upset. Did you forget your medicine, Vanya?” Ben asks, offering his hands to them. They accept and Klaus grabs Vanya’s hand once they’re on their feet, tugging her towards where their family is watching in the distance.

“We were hurrying to leave,” she answers quietly, more a shamed apology than placing any blame.

“That’s okay,” Klaus cuts in before she can fall into a stream of apologies like she’s prone to do. Vanya is sorry for everything, it seems. He doesn’t think anyone would ever believe it, but they’re the same in that. “Mom will get it for you when we get home. And maybe she’ll make us hot chocolate if you look really sad.”

“Mom’s going to make us take a bath,” Ben corrects and Vanya laughs when Klaus’ nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Klaus?”

He looks at Ben, confused. That wasn’t right. The weight of Vanya’s hand disappears and Ben is staring at him intently. Worried. Klaus doesn’t understand.

“Klaus!”

He blinks and Ben is still there. Still worried. But he’s not seven and neither is Klaus. He’s twenty five, Ben is eternally twenty, and they’re both stuck in this hellhole because Klaus is a huge disappointment who still can’t stop himself from hurdling past the line.

“When I think of Vanya, that’s what I think of,” Klaus says between stuttered breaths. He itches for something he knows Ben won’t approve of and tacks that on to the pile of things he feels guilty for. Eventually he’ll numb to it completely. “And when she thinks of me, well, we just read a whole book about it, didn’t we?”

Ben’s got tragedy in his eyes and Klaus wishes that would go away but he knows he’s the main source of his brother’s post-mortem pain. What else do the dead have to be upset about other than the constant self-sabotage of their idiot brother?

“I don’t get it,” he says, pushing himself up to rest on his elbow so they’re on more level ground. “Vanya wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Vanya’s not seven anymore, Klaus. That Vanya’s been through a lot just like the rest of us and, you know. People do uncharacteristic things under distress,” Ben explains though it feels a lot like Klaus trying to make Vanya feel better about the ants. Reassurance that Ben doesn’t believe himself.

Klaus nods anyways because sometimes Ben is right even when he doesn’t think so himself.

“Vanya doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” he agrees, laying back down and rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“Sure,” Ben allows though he knows his brother thinks he’s missed the point.

—-

He’s  _finally_ checking out a few days later when his bored little friend in reception hands over his designated ziplock of goodies. This time it’s a popsicle stick with a very unfunny joke written down the length of the wood and two pennies made the year he and his siblings were born.

Klaus only ever checks in with trash in his pockets, the paranoid little voice in his brain telling him to stash his bag beforehand after the first visit that ended with him three shirts and a razor short for whatever reason.

He doesn’t have enough to his name to be losing things.

This time though, he has something to give in return. He slaps down Vanya’s book with enough force that it goes sliding across the counter and the man has to scramble to stop it from falling to the floor. Klaus watches with no shortage of amusement.

“For the lending library. A generous donation from moi,” he says with an exaggerated hand flourish, positively beaming when the man gives him the most dry stare he’s ever seen come from someone other than his father, to whom there is no competition obviously.

“It’s not a lending library, Klaus,” the man corrects in deadpan. “You just keep stealing shit.”

Klaus mimes offense at the accusation like that isn’t exactly what he does. He’s been stealing books from the center’s small collection since the second visit. Ben likes reading and he can’t do it himself anymore so Klaus thinks it’s his responsibility to make sure his brother doesn’t die a second ghost death of boredom.

If it means he has to sit there looking like a maniac turning pages every so often while his focus is on something else, then there are way worse things in life. Like actually having to read the book himself.

As if any of those fuckers are gonna cry over their missed opportunity to leaf through ‘1984’.

“Well, now we’re even. See you later!” he dismisses, waving off the conversation.

“God, I hope not,” he hears the guy mumble faintly and Klaus doesn’t know whether to be touched or offended. Unfortunately, he’s going to see Klaus later whether he wants to or not. That’s the cycle.

And then, like all the times before, him and Ben are out of there and back into the real world of New York irrelevance. People are always walking somewhere. Doing something. Living lives that don’t involve him.

He doesn’t think he could ever leave New York for good but it’s a stretch to say he feels like he belongs. It’s hard to belong somewhere when you don’t have roots dug in. The only place Klaus consistently lives is the center. The only people who ever think about whether he’s dead or alive are the workers.

It’s a little depressing to think about. Makes him ache for a shitty past that isn’t worth missing.

He shakes it off and practically skips his way to the back of the building where he starts digging out a section of loose brick. A hole is uncovered inside of which are all his worldly possessions stuffed into a single duffle bag.

“I’m thinking some celebratory poppers are in order,” he says, pulling out the bag and digging through it to make sure it hadn’t been messed with in the month he’d been away. Everything seems in order and he lets out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding.

“Klaus, why?” Ben asks and Klaus doesn’t even need to look at him to know what look he’s on the receiving end of. Doesn’t want to look.

“I love instant gratification for very little money,” he answers like he doesn’t know what Ben’s really asking so he doesn’t have to take to heart that he’s such a disappointment to the one person sticking it out with him.

There’s this horrible split second of silence where Ben gives him the opportunity to give a real answer and Klaus very much does not. Instead, he continues to avert his eyes and slings the bag over his shoulder to give himself anything else to focus on.

“You know what I mean! Why do you even bother putting yourself through rehab?” Ben demands. He sounds pissed, on the higher end of the scale than usual, and Klaus gnaws on his lip while considering how to deescalate the situation without making promises he can’t keep. “You detox,  _I guess_ , and then you just blow it first thing. What’s the point?”

“Come on man, poppers aren’t even that bad. They’re legal, mostly.” It’s a horrible excuse and exactly the wrong thing to say. He turns to Ben and his brother looks like he ate something sour.

“It’s not about legal anymore, Klaus. Think about what you’re doing. This is hurting yo-”

“Oh fuck off! Not sleeping for more days than I have the thought capacity to count hurts me,” Klaus snaps and the shock that takes over Ben’s face makes Klaus want to upend the meager contents of his stomach all over the pavement. “The sharp pain in my stomach when I have to listen to fuckin’ Titanic Sally or whoever screech their woes into my skull hurts me. It’s not about what hurts me, man. It’s what’s easier to live with and if  _you_  can’t live with that, you’re free to fucking go like the rest of the Brady Bunch.”

He doesn’t mean it. Of all the bullshit he’s spouted that he doesn’t mean, he means this the least of all and regret churns fire hot in a way that is all too familiar and the world slows down to a screeching halt where Klaus tries to soak in every detail of his brother while he can because if Ben is really gone for good, he can’t do this.

Even with the drugs. Without Ben, he can’t.

But Ben does what he always does. He doesn’t disappear. He just stares at Klaus with a fixed look, following after him silently when Klaus somehow finds it in him to put one foot in front of the other again and again.

Klaus doesn’t know where he’s going exactly. Just walking aimlessly until he convinces himself that Ben’s still going to be there next to him no matter how many times he looks away. Ben doesn’t offer comment or question their direction. Just follows.

He’s a better brother than Klaus ever was and he deserves more than what Klaus can offer him. But Klaus is what he has. Klaus is the one who can see him and he really wants to believe that that’s what Ben wants too but he can’t even answer a simple question.

Why does he keep putting himself through rehab?

It’s a roof over his head for one thing. With none of the freedom that being a homeless train wreck allows but three meals a day which is three more than Klaus can guarantee himself when he’s out.

But he goes months dealing with an ever present pang of hunger, hopping from place to place as he slides himself into the lives of people whose names he doesn’t commit to memory. It seems he can only ever breed attachment to people who don’t want him around.

So, the consistency of rehab is nice but it’s something he goes without by choice often enough. It’s more of a perk than anything.

He never has to be one hundred percent sober. Someone’s always got a little something tucked away. Nothing too serious, a little weed at most. It doesn’t shoo away all the ghosts anymore but does create a nice little buffer so he doesn’t have to hear them all cry and moan at once.

Rehab ghosts were the worst though, always telling Klaus to take a lesson from their deaths. Chastising him like a child. Of the two of them, Klaus was the one still breathing. He thinks he’s got it under control.

And anyways, out of rehab, he didn’t need to be sober at all so that certainly wasn’t much of a point in its favor.

The honest reason was down to a tiny crumbled pamphlet buried in the bottom of his bag.

He’s barely twenty years old the first time he overdoses. The first time he puts anything in his body harder than vodka and weed. It doesn’t end well, of course.

Diego’s the only one to show up to the hospital because Ben was dead  _dead_   ** _dead_**  and Klaus wasn’t in the right place to believe the worried shadow of his brother in the chair next to his bed was anything other than a bad side effect of an even worse comedown.

Allison’s a million fucking miles away and Five has been who the fuck knows where for years and Luther doesn’t give a fuck about anyone other than Dad now that Allison broke his big stupid heart. He’s shocked Diego even bothers. Klaus has probably seen him the least out of all their siblings in the last couple years, tied with Five for a whopping total of not at all.

He just appears in the doorway of the room like a ghost, whistling low in a way that makes Klaus’ skin crawl. Saunters over real slow and cautious like a spooked animal not sure what it’s dealing with.

Klaus wants to laugh manically and tease Diego in the sing song way he did when they were kids but everything hurts from the very center of his being and he wishes he were dead so instead he just follows the other boy’s every move with big eyes.

“Thought we all kinda agreed we weren’t going to kick it before Dad? Little spite pact,” Diego jokes and Klaus wishes it didn’t dig deep into the part of his heart that just can’t stop bleeding. But Klaus does not get to be the serious one of them so he plays along like he’s suppose to.

“That is the plan, isn’t it? Guess some of us are better at it than others,” he agrees, hyperaware of the way the comment makes Diego frown like he didn’t just also make a poorly timed joke.

What does Diego care? He was the first to go, after Five and running away at thirteen isn’t even the same thing so this one is all Diego’s. Number two but first to give up. He should proud at being best at something.

Klaus says none of this. Diego is good at leaving and Klaus wants him to stay. Wanted him to stay the first time.

“Dude, what do you want? Like, if you could have or do anything, what would it be?” Diego asks, seemingly veering the conversation in an unprecedented direction and Klaus doesn’t follow but he answers without hesitation.

“Easy. New York Fashion Week invite and kick the coach of the Red Sox in the dick,” he says, slowly pushing himself to sit up. It hurts. He doesn’t care. Looking at the worried shadow of Not Ben hurts too so he doesn’t.

“What? No!” Diego huffs, crossing and uncrossing his arms. A telltale sign that he’s agitated. Good. Klaus is agitated too. “Man, what are you doing with your life, Klaus? Cocaine, that’s not you-”

Klaus barks out a laugh that feels like it repositions his entire rib cage.

“Oh man, are you here to lecture me? Hard pass. Thanks for coming though, bro. Really. Means a lot.”

“Oh fuck you. What do you even think you’re doing? You think Ben would be cool with this?” Diego demands and Klaus has to do everything in his power not to puke. His fingers crack as he clenches at the cheap hospital sheets and lolls his head around to stare straight at Not Ben.

The figure looks upset at the question, about as upset as Klaus feels. He hasn’t spoke since three nights before and that’s because he’s not real. Just a shitty figment of Klaus’ fucked up, desperate imagination. He laughs again.

“Yeah well. Ben exploded into a bunch of tiny, itty bitty pieces and we’d have to give all the pieces a vote, wouldn’t we? Never win an argument again,” he says and Not Ben looks away, visibly uncomfortable.

Fuck his imagination.

“Klaus,” Diego says softly enough to drag Klaus’ attention back to him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

The force of unexpected anger that builds in him at that is unexplainable. Klaus is use to being upset under the surface at all times but rage is unfamiliar to him. That’s Diego and Luther’s vice.

“No shit it wasn’t my fault.  _I_  haven’t gone on a mission since I was fifteen. My shit is useless. But you? You could’ve been a big help. Or Allison. Or fuck, maybe if Luther had been paying any fucking attention instead of crying about the fact that Allison wasn’t there after two god damn years-”

“Stop,” says Not Ben and when Klaus turns back to him, he’s got the thing’s full attention. Fiery eyes. The no nonsense look Klaus was familiar with when he veered just a little too far. Awful spot-on replica of the real thing.

Even imaginary Ben is defending their siblings when it’s  _all their fault_. It’s not fair. It’s-

“Shut up. Why are you here?” Klaus groans, hissing when Not Ben doesn’t answer and looks back out the window even though the curtain is drawn. Anything other than Klaus.

“I didn’t say anything, Klaus. What’s going on with you? Mom says you disappear and next thing I know, you’re in the hospital for a cocaine overdose.”

“And how’d you find that out, huh? I haven’t even identified myself yet. We’re not going to do this,” Klaus dismisses, waving him off. “So you can go back to your baby police shit and your little side fling playing Batman.”

“How do you know about tha-”

“The police thing or the kinky vigilante gig? Because I watch the news and it’s really easy to identify what ‘precise knife wounds’ mean. Especially when it keeps coming up again and again. Give your stupid brother some credit,” Klaus says, amused despite himself.

That’s only the short of it though. Klaus remembers being in the living room with Luther and Ben and Vanya and Allison when the first instance of it had been reported. Because Luther was obsessed with knowing what was happening without the Umbrella Academy’s involvement like they were some kind of authority.

They all knew instantly.

Seventeen years old and their brother was out on his own. Not because he was sick of the obligation forced on them. Because he wanted that obligation without them. Klaus had laughed and laughed and laughed while Luther ranted about irresponsibility and Vanya worried and the gears in Allison’s brain turned around the idea of going out on her own.

Sometimes late at night, Klaus thinks about Diego joining Not Ben at his side and he laughs and laughs and laughs again until he’s choking down sobs.

“But if you meant the police shit, Mom was excited you’d been accepted. Read the whole household the letter you wrote. Might be a robot but golly, she sure was proud three out of seven of her kids made something of themselves. That’s almost half!”

Klaus doesn’t want his bitterness to bleed into his tone as much as it is but it’s really starting to irritate him. The sky is falling around him and everyone wants to know why. He doesn’t know why; that’s just the luck of the draw.

Like how Allison got powers that paved the way for a high profile career and Klaus’ paved the way for PTSD.

“Don’t talk about Mom like that,” Diego chastises as if that has anything to do with anything. Like she isn’t Klaus’ mother too just because Klaus doesn’t stay in touch. He’s got no updates for her that will make his absence any easier.

Sometimes it’s better to just be a disappointment from a distance.

“Mom isn’t relevant to this conversation,” Klaus answers and he swore up and down when he woke up that he was never gonna do cocaine again but god, he’s craving anything to not be mentally present for this exchange anymore.

“No, Mom has nothing to do with you being a childish bitch. That’s all you,” Diego agrees and Klaus nods like the petty child that he is. Because it’s easier to let Diego walk away mad than explain that he’s drowning and needs help and that he’s fucking scared.

Two weeks on his own and he can’t even manage that without ending up in the hospital.

Everyone else seems just fine with their choices and Klaus just wants to shut his brain off until it stops hurting. Ben and ghosts and siblings that are fine without each other.

“Vanya has been busy I guess but she heard I was coming and she told me to give this to you,” Diego says, laying down an envelope at Klaus’ feet which is such an asshole move. “I can only imagine it’s some polite sentiment you don’t deserve.”

And then he’s gone, all black leather and brooding pout, and Klaus chokes down the impulse to call him back if only because he doesn’t know if he could take it when he doesn’t come back.

Klaus can live with not being wanted as long as he never has to see the evidence of it.

He stares at the envelope at the foot of the bed for a long while, hoping by some miracle that it’ll come to him before making the painful stretch to retrieve it.

“You know, if you’re gonna be here, you could be helpful. Useless fucking figment of my imagination,” Klaus chastises Not Ben, huffing at the unimpressed look he gets. At least he’s not being ignored anymore.

“I already told you, I’m not a figment of your imagination,” it says, sounding annoyed but Klaus still detects that soft sad edge to his voice that he had before he stopped saying anything to Klaus at all. “Jesus, Klaus. Your whole thing is talking to ghosts; why are you being so difficult?”

“Listen, buddy. The ghosties always fuck off after a little bit of mary jane. Do you know how much cocaine I had to put in my body before you disappeared?”

“Yes. I’m aware of how much cocaine you did,” Not Ben says, soft edge gone completely. Klaus snorts, peeling open the envelope.

It’s a cheesy little Get Well card with a photo of a very chubby raccoon tucked into bed that Klaus genuinely loves with all his heart. He doesn’t know how Vanya can get him so much and still feel so disconnected from him at the same time.

The inside is blank but as he opens it, two things slide out and fall into his lap.

The first is a business card to some therapist a couple blocks down from the house that he promptly tosses to the floor. Anything in that area is way beyond what he’s capable of paying for and besides that, Klaus has no intention of spilling his heart out to some educated jackass who thinks talking to a stranger can solve any of his problems.

Really, the last thing he wants is to be the topic of someone’s book. He’s sure the medical community would have a field day with a traumatized stoner capable of talking to the dead.

The other thing has him pausing, dropping the card in favor of examining the pamphlet. This, unlike the card, does have Vanya’s writing on a post-it note stuck to the front, mousey and uncertain just like her.

‘For when you realize you’re worth it - Vanya’

He peels it off, sticking it back to the inside of the card because Klaus is a pitiful fuck and he’s definitely going to keep both.

The pamphlet itself is for a rehab center in a shadier part of the city. Not completely in the dark recesses but certainly in a cheaper part far from the neighborhood where they grew up. Government funded and completely voluntary.

The kind of place that Klaus could realistically be capable of utilizing unlike the bozo whose card is collecting dust on the floor. He smiles despite the whole situation. Klaus isn’t an addict. It’s the thought that counts.

He turns and realizes the other boy has been staring at him the whole time.

“So you’re here, right? Ben?” he asks, the name heavy in his mouth. He’s tried to avoid speaking of his brother since his death. The past weeks have felt like years. A lifetime.

“As long as you want me,” Ben agrees.

“Well alright then.” He leans back and closes his eyes, exhausted. The past 36 hours have felt like a lifetime too but… Ben’s here, in one way or another he supposes. And Ben always knows what to do so. It’ll be fine.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself,” Ben whispers, closer than Klaus expects. He opens his eyes and they’re parked in front of a fancy sex shop that Klaus discovered years ago after the owner took him home and didn’t let him leave for four days. Four glorious days.

Dude was always good for an even exchange of goods and services.

He really hadn’t meant to come here despite the insistence that poppers were definitely on the menu. His body was on autopilot and he’s almost got enough shame left to feel bad that this is where it took him. Klaus’ eyes remain trained on the risqué display in the window, Ben’s reflection staring back at him in the glass.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Klaus says, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Ben doesn’t expect him to be a dipshit all the time. Ben knows Klaus is capable of serious thought. Expects more out of him. But that doesn’t mean serious is any easier to choke out. “And I don’t want Diego to find out I died in an alley over his stupid illegal police radio. I don’t want fuckin’ TMZ to ask Allison what she’s going to wear at my funeral. I don’t want Vanya to come up with thirty different reasons why it’s her fault. I don’t want any of that.”

He turns to Ben who for the first time doesn’t look disappointed. Just sad like every first day out of rehab.

“When it gets bad, I go. And then I start again. It works.”

“For how long?” Ben asks and Klaus shrugs.

“For as long as it works.”

They both turn back to the window as it starts to rain and Klaus realizes he’s thinking about his cot back at the center and the way rain sounded against the cheap roof. Hypnotic. Enough to drown out the voices for a little bit. He’d always liked the rain for that reason. Made him feel clean, like maybe there really was an alternative like everyone kept suggesting.

It’s too late for that train of thought though and Vanya was wrong anyways.

Klaus wasn’t worth it.

___

It’s a few weeks later and Klaus is scrambling away like a wild animal from a pissed shop owner less than thrilled with him helping himself to one or seven bags of baked lays when he catches a little shop window tv in his peripheral.

He stumbles to a clumsy stop, wheezing out heavy breaths, and pops open of the bags as he takes in the sight of his sister in a wedding dress.

Immediately he knows Allison hates it. Realistically, she doesn’t have to like it; it’s just some trailer for an upcoming movie that Klaus gleams from context clues is about some sort of bridezilla character and so Allison’s opinion on the dress is irrelevant but Klaus just knows she hates it.

The thing isn’t her style at all with its excess of tulle and beaded embellishments. The picture of tacky lavishness. Nothing like her real wedding dress which had been elegant and tasteful and the envy of his past Teen Vogue loving ass.

He’d begged and begged and begged for her to let him try it on, just for fun. Like when they were kids and Mom would buy her all the fun, pretty things for when Dad wasn’t around to care and Klaus was stuck with polos and ugly denim jeans he cut into capris.

Allison had been his favorite for a while for that reason. They had a lot in common when it came to that but then they got older and it was hit or miss whether Allison was going to be generous with her wardrobe or pissy about Klaus breathing in her space.

Hit or miss and heavily reliant on where Luther was at the time.

Klaus remembers getting the email out of the blue.

They all hit eighteen and then suddenly Allison is headed off to California without much of a discussion to anyone. Dad had been pissed but she hadn’t been around for the aftermath of her decision and none of them were willing to take on anyone else’s heat so he’d fumed alone in his office for weeks.

Klaus argued for ages, with Ben and with Luther, that none of them should have been surprised by it. Allison had grown bored of the Umbrella Academy spotlight long before then and all she ever talked about when she wasn’t off being utterly gross with Luther was the thrill of Hollywood glamour.

To her credit, it had been a lot of back and forth for a while. Maybe because she was scared to really leave the only place that had ever been something of a home or maybe because Luther had been heartbroken at the perceived betrayal.

The Umbrella Academy was falling apart and her absence only cemented it. It hit Klaus in a similar sort of way.

Diego had already jumped ship by that point, tired of always coming in second which sorta makes Klaus want to laugh hysterically and kinda makes him want to scream. He knows for a fact Vanya was looking for a place, if only because she made no effort to hide the evidence of her search.

The only reason Klaus hadn’t fucked off himself was good, always obedient Ben and then, one day, there wasn’t any reason to stay.

Ben’s death seemed to set off a chain reaction. Allison moved out to California for good. Vanya shoved her entire life into six cardboard boxes and packed them neatly into a cab. She left with a sad little wave that Klaus returned with haunted eyes.

The house became its own kind of mausoleum and Klaus had been trapped in one of those more than enough times in his life so he just. Went.

And then, not six months later, Klaus has an email inviting him to a  _wedding_.

Klaus is fresh from his first rehab go-around and if he’s being honest, it could have been anything to get him out of this cold, lifeless city for just a little bit and he would've snapped it up. The fact that it’s to witness his sister get married is both sweeter and all the more bitter.

Allison has made something of herself. Something that has nothing to do with their childhood or this city or good ol’ Daddy Hargreeves. He is jealous and heartbroken and more than a little proud because he supposes Allison deserves it in ways that he does not.

The email is nothing flashy like he assumes their physical invitations must be but then, Klaus doesn’t have a standing address to receive overpriced pieces of cut cardstock so he can’t be too upset.

‘If you promise not to out-dress me at my own wedding, I’ll fly you out - A’ it says and Klaus snickers at the idea that his dirty, half-homeless ass could even manage to do so but despite this, Allison wants him to share in an important moment in her life and undoubtedly, there will be free food.

So he sobers up just enough not to ruin his sister’s big day and jumps on a flight out to California.

“You’re my plus one,” Klaus gleefully informs Ben while they’re waiting at the gate for the plane to board. There’s a wide circle of empty seats around them as families sporting Disney gear and elderly couples keep their distance from the dirty twink talking to himself.

“I would have been invited too,” Ben argues. “I’m not some last minute date you’re introducing to the family at the worst possible time.” Klaus just offers a silly little grin back but thinks if he made the attempt to mention anything, it’d be more like that than Ben thinks.

Sometimes Klaus feels selfish not letting his family know that Ben’s still here in all the ways that matter and sometimes, when he forgets himself and ends up with a hand phasing through Ben’s form, he feels like it’s the one thing he can contribute to protecting them.

The flight is arguably one of the worst experiences of his life so far. If screaming babies on a plane are bad, chatty airplane ghosts were hellish. Then again, Klaus can’t imagine any worse place to be stuck in the afterlife so maybe he can sympathize just a little bit.

Ben does his best to distract him with running commentary on the shitty in-flight movie which hilariously enough is one of Allison’s early flicks. It helps, it does, but Klaus discovers that flying is definitely on his list of things to avoid at all cost in the future.

By the time they touch down, Klaus has sweat through his shirt and is regrettably short on anything other than the one nice shirt he owns that he’s saving for the wedding.

Outside the airport, it dawns on him that he’s penniless and has no idea where he’s going. Allison hadn’t said anything to his reply of ‘hell yeah’ other than to forward him a boarding pass. Fortunately enough, Allison is also always two steps ahead and waiting for Klaus is very bored cab driver who looks him up and down with the most unimpressed look.

California really is the promise land. He whispers to Ben that he bets in all the guy’s disinterest, Klaus could still get his number and feels victorious at the tiny upturn of lips Ben tries to hide.

The place he gets dumped off at looks like a disgustingly expensive country club complete with water guzzling plants surrounding the whole building and a fucking fountain out front. Klaus is momentarily worried he’ll get kicked out before he ever finds where he’s suppose to go.

He feels out of place before he even starts getting looks from middle aged white women in designer golf polos and diamond earrings. Luckily, Klaus has a childhood of experience slinking around a place he doesn’t feel he belongs.

Inside is a giant open room with minimalist white furniture tucked in shaded corners to the side of large glass doors leading to what looks like the most impractical grass lawn and the very edge of a wooden deck.

Klaus can count nine fruit bowls in this room alone and snags an apple before making his way down a hallway chosen at random. Its much more narrow, especially compared to the main entrance, and Klaus feels safer being less exposed.

Ben is silent as they make their way down the hallway, taking in their surroundings. Klaus wonders if he feels as out of place as Klaus does despite being invisible to anyone who might come across them. Then again, Klaus often wonders if Ben feels out of place existing in any space.

The first few doors he peeks in are nothing. A staff room, a cleaning closet. Nothing of interest and he’s almost convinced to turn around and try one of the other, more inviting hallways when he hears a laugh. One he’s familiar with and then another less familiar but that tugs on the edges of his memory.

He wanders further, slowly pushing open an ajar door with the tips of his fingers.

Allison is the first thing he notices, beautiful and looking every bit the Hollywood queen she swore she would be. She twirls with another laugh and Vanya, looking small and plain next to her laughs again as well, fingers sliding delicately along the fabric of the dress’ skirt.

Klaus feels a pang of jealousy and another wave of resolution that he’s not meant to be a part of this.

“Excuse me, what are you doing here? This is a private club!” screeches a voice very close to Klaus’ ear and his entire body tenses as a hand roughly grabs his arm hard enough to bruise. It gains the attention of the girls who turn with wide eyes.

“Oh! It’s alright, Martha. It’s just my brother. Come in! Look. Can you even believe it?” Allison asks with another exaggerated turn and Klaus is thankful as the grip on his arm releases with an audible huff of annoyance. He stumbles forward in an effort to get as far away from the woman as possible.

It’s easier than he thinks it would be to plaster on a smile even as his insides churn in discomfort.

“Oh I believe it,” Klaus tells her. “Only you would have the nerve to get married in a twenty five thousand dollar dress from three seasons ago.”

Allison laughs and shrugs while Vanya looks visibly uncomfortable, though Klaus can’t tell if it’s from the easy interaction or the ludicrous cost of the dress.

“And only you would be able to price and date a dress just from looking at it,” Allison shoots back. “I wish you had been there when I was trying dresses on. You would have been more helpful than the future in-law.”

“Trouble with the new folks already, Allison? Not a great sign,” he teases effortlessly, hands coming up to clench at the strap of the threadbare duffle he’s been toting around since he left home.

“Well, I wouldn’t say trouble but, god. She just kept insisting I try on these dresses. Klaus, they were awful. But you would have made it fun. Tried them on with me too, I bet. Made the whole thing less stressful.”

Klaus refrains from blurting out that if Allison hadn’t fucked off across the country to forget her family ever existed, he’d have been more than happy and available to fuck around in a bridal shop with her for hours while her future mother-in-law made sour faces at their childishness.

“She wouldn’t be getting married if she hadn’t left,” Ben reminds him, always the mind reader.

“You look nice too, Vanya. Very classy,” Klaus says, changing the subject. And she does in a crisp pant suit and bold patterned blouse peeking out. She looks good and she looks comfortable the way she never did growing up.

“Thank you, Klaus. You look…um-”

“Yeah. This isn’t my best look, I’ll be honest. I have a change of clothes,” he interrupts, holding up his bag. They stare back, as if waiting for an explanation for why he looks like he woke up in a gutter and he returns the favor without offering one. Vanya looks sad and for that, Klaus is eager to move on. “If one of you lovely ladies would donate an eyeliner pencil to a boy in need, I’ll be ready by the time the wedding march starts.”

Allison smiles. The kind he sees her give in interviews and Klaus has never raised a hand to any of his siblings beyond play wrestling but the urge to smack it off her face is strong.

She leans down to dig through a bag tucked at her feet. Louis, of course. One from an upcoming season even, unreleased to the public, and Klaus hears his knuckles crack as his fingers tense.

“Diego’s changing right now in the room next door,” she says, smoothing a hand down her corset as she stands. Something gets tossed in his direction and reflectively he puts a hand out to catch it.

What he sees makes him smile, genuinely. It’s the cheap shit they use to hoard back when they were kids. Half the time, Klaus was lifting it from drug stores anyways but its cheap even by drug store makeup standards. Certainly wasn’t the kind of thing Oscar winning actress Allison Hargreeves should be rocking on the daily, tucked away in her Louis Vuitton bag like a dirty secret.

“You’re a saint; they should erect statues in your honor,” Klaus tells her with a exaggerated bow.

“Who’s to say they haven’t?” Allison shoots back and Klaus is thankful he’s already turned away if only so he doesn’t have to see the look on Vanya’s face. She’s too much like Ben. Like Diego. Always looking heartbroken for their stupid, off the rails brother.

Things would be easier if they learned to ignore it like Allison and Luther.

The wedding is a beautiful affair like everything else in Allison’s new perfect life. The ceremony takes place out on that big stupid lawn, an aisle of delicate golden fabric bracketed by rows of victorian ass chairs that are way too nice to be outside.

They’re sat one next to the other at the far right of the front row and Klaus can’t help but think it’s a well played ‘fuck you.’ Close enough to note importance but tucked away from the eyes of the other guests at the same time.

Allison’s side of the wedding party consists of tall, beautiful girls he’s never seen before but wouldn’t be the least bit shocked to discover they were models or actresses or fuckin’ personal assistants who just happened to be gorgeous because this was L.A.

“Feeling real cheated by this parade of beautiful women. That should be us!” Klaus whines, motioning to the line of women as the non-denominational priest says words about the sanctity of marriage that he just knows is for Allison’s husband’s benefit.

Dad never was much of one for religious talk.

“I think you’d pull off the dress better. I’m fine where I am,” Vanya consoles and Klaus feels for her. If nothing else, Vanya should have been a bridesmaid as Allison’s only sister. Fuck, Klaus is genuinely upset  _he_  isn’t.

“Do you think we should invite the big guy to stop sulking like a lunatic behind that tree and come sit down?” Diego asks, pulling Klaus from his pity party. Both Vanya and Klaus turn in their seats, zeroing in on the clear shape of their brother a few yards back pretending he’s anywhere but watching Allison marry some Hollywood hotshot.

They turn back and Klaus looks to the seat beside him where Ben has planted himself, twisted around to stare at Luther like he’s taking it personally that their bossy brother’s life is finally falling down around him. Well, Luther always was stubborn about giving in to the inevitable.

“Nah,” he says, eyeing up one of Allison’s bridesmaids that looks especially bored to be a (supposed) important person to his sister in a beautiful dress. God, what a burden. “Seat’s taken."

The reception that follows is nothing short of magical. Klaus eats more food, better food, than he has in months and is comfortably full for the first time since he left home and the comfort of Mom’s cooking.

Nobody stares at them together like a failed science experiment that went off with a bang. They’re hardly noteworthy at all and the looks they do get seem to be geared more at Klaus’ appearance than anything else.

He did his brotherly duty in not out-dressing Allison but he’s still Klaus and his idea of formal wear might not be quite in line with the ideals of the conservative upperclass crowd they’re in the midst of. Honestly, this isn’t anything; he didn’t even get to wear a skirt like he likes to sometimes indulge in with parties because he doesn’t own one right now.

Doesn’t own much in the way of clothes at all right now, really.

Ben always says in a way that sounds more like a bribe to a child than a casual statement that when Klaus gets his life together, he’ll be able to buy and wear whatever he wants. Klaus thinks with a bit of a pout that if that’s true, he’ll never get to have pretty things ever again.

If he’s being honest with himself, the looks probably have more to do with him being slightly stoned and looking every bit like he hasn’t slept in the past 36 hours. Which is accurate and he supposes isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

Luther still won’t officially join the party, hanging back at the edge of the huge white tents they have set up over the tables. Between how bright the fairy lights are woven along the poles of the tents and the large decorative pillars decorating the perimeter of the tents, even his brother’s hulking form is only visible because Klaus knows to look for it.

Klaus gets it. Well…he doesn’t. Personally, he thinks the thing between Allison and Luther is  _weird_  so he doesn’t understand exactly where Luther is coming from, but he understands having the loss of a sister who’s still right there cemented.

If he still wasn’t so angry about Luther being such a jackass, he might even sympathize but as it was, Luther could suffer on his own just like the rest of them.

“It’s not his fault,” Ben says, eyes following Luther’s shadow like they have all night. Klaus guesses he can’t blame him; it’s not like Ben could entertain himself with eating or casual conversation. But Ben also always gave Luther way too much leeway in terms of emotional responsibility and Klaus can’t stomach it.

“Who asked you?” he mumbles back, avoiding the worried looks Diego and Vanya direct at him.

The lulling chatter of the tables around them is pleasant background noise and Klaus is sure between that, his full tummy, and the soft polite conversation Vanya and Diego are having about their actual, functional adult lives, he could fall asleep right here in his seat.

The spell is immediately broken with the clinking of silverware against glass, something so cliche it has Klaus unable to contain some partially intoxicated giggles. God, who were these people?

“Thank you all for joining us in celebrating the addition of what I can only describe as just the most perfect woman into our family,” says Allison’s well meaning new mother-in-law. Klaus hates the way she phrases it though. It’s as if they’re just bystanders here to witness their sister being taken from them.

Understandable; who would want to become a part of  _their_  family?

“Would the father of the bride like to say a few words?” she continues and their entire table sits in uncomfortable silence as the naive guests at tables around them look around for a man who isn’t even there.

As if Dad would waste his precious time to come see his daughter hammer the last nail in the coffin. They know better. Allison does too but even so, she looks more and more devastated with each passing millisecond of dragged silence. Embarrassment probably.

Or maybe, foolishly, there was a part of her still hopeful that their bastard of a father would make the time just this once. The same part of her that thought it was a good idea to invite Luther.

The look doesn’t suit her beautiful dress and Klaus is pretty sure her mascara isn’t waterproof so it’s really out of the kindness of his heart that he makes the unsteady climb on top of their table.

“What are you doing?” Diego hisses, making a grab for his ankle and attempting to tug him down before he can make a scene. Klaus easily shakes him off, turning to the main table with an animated gesture.

“Number Three,” he says in a slurred imitation of the Dad voice he use to put on as a kid to cheer Ben up after particularly bad lectures. “I knew from the day I brought you into my life that you possessed a kind of potential that would know no bounds. To think that in all your potential you would go on to jumpstart a successful acting career through thankless hard work and ceaseless dedication  **and still**  achieve the ultimate goal of love with a person who clearly thinks the world of you. You are  _a_   _disgrace_.”

There is a horrified silence that takes over the room. Diego has his head in his hands and Vanya looks ready to disappear off the face of the earth but the look in Allison’s eyes tells him everything he needs to know. He lifts his glass.

“To being a disgrace.”

Patrick looks pissed, hand clenched tight around Allison’s protectively, but it’s nothing compared to the fury burning in his mother’s eyes. Likewise, Klaus can feel the angry eyes of guests trained on him but it’s nothing he’s unused to anymore and there’s only one person whose opinion matters in this.

His attention is on Allison who raises her own glass with a tiny thankful smile that Klaus feels in his gut.

Diego and Vanya have their glasses raised too and Ben makes the motion as well despite not having a glass to raise. Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out Luther bring his own up before downing it swiftly in one motion.

What a sad fucking affair that this is the most connected he’s felt to his siblings in ages.

He’s escorted out of the reception quickly and discreetly by two very handsome men whose grips are not the least bit forgiving. He remembers seeing them on Patrick’s side of the wedding party and understands that they’ve been asked to leave him to rot in the back parking lot so as not to allow him to ruin what’s left of the reception.

If that didn’t just fit the narrative. Allison was, would always be, one of them. A broken little misfit. She may have appreciated the gesture for what it was but in the end, it didn’t play into the life she’d crafted for herself.

It’s the same reason she’d tell him she wishes he’d been there for the wedding planning but email him only days before the wedding.

He kicks at some loose pavement while Ben watches on and contemplates where to go from here. There hadn’t been a point since he left New York where he’d thought about what to do. Allison had laid everything out for him but even Allison hadn't predicted Klaus being ejected from her wedding reception.

At least they’d been gracious enough to dump his bag out here with him.

“Klaus,” he hears quietly behind him, sending off familiar warning bells and scaring the shit out of him. He whirls around as Vanya and Diego are making their way out of the very same door he’d been thrown though.

  
Diego has his arms crossed in a way that is so nostalgic of the way he would imitate Luther imitating who he thought Dad wanted him to be.

They really were a sad bunch.

“Diego and I got a hotel for tonight. I think we’re all on the same flight back tomorrow. Do you want to stay with us? It’s not much but there’s a fold-out couch,” Vanya offers without the mocking insinuation that she knows Klaus is more than familiar with park benches and makeshift cardboard tents in alleys between couch hopping.

“Oh sick, snuggle wuggle time with my favoritest brother,” Klaus says, making a vague wavy gesture in Ben’s direction that he hopes translates.

“Think again, asshole. I paid for my bed,” Diego scoffs and Klaus bounces on his toes. Tries not to let any of those pesky hurt feelings settle in his heart. Diego’s a pushover anyways. All bark and no bite.

Anyone intimidated by Diego wasn’t around when he was clinging to Mom’s skirt.

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about  _you_. Maybe Vanya’s my favorite brother,” he counters and then immediately feels like an ass for the way Vanya’s eyes drop. It was a tease but it wasn’t insincere. Klaus doesn’t play favorites and if he did, it always comes back to Ben but the reality was, Klaus feels a deep – although neglected – connection to all his siblings in different but equally fucked up ways.

‘Trauma bonding’ Ben would call it.

The hotel room they booked is neither especially nice nor is it cockroach ridden. It’s a middle grade L.A. dig with two queens, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with shiny faux-granite that Klaus might be inclined to call nice as someone who regularly took occupancy in parks where pissing was designated to various bushes.

He shoves into it like he owns the place and immediately strips his way to the bathroom. Vanya makes a noise of surprise, frozen in the doorway. Bless her heart; you’d think they didn’t grow up together.

Diego isn’t having the same problem and makes his own noise of resigned annoyance, following after Klaus and collecting his clothes.

Klaus makes a show of blowing him a kiss before closing the door and then, finally, he’s alone. Even Ben has given him the freedom of staying in the main part of the room, a level of trust he’s not sure he deserves.

It’s the first real shower he’s had since he got out of rehab and it’s borderline orgasmic. He wants to feel this way all the time, clean and fed and on that happy line between sober and dangerously fucked up. Like a well taken care of cat or maybe just a human being part of a family.

The thought draws tired, hysterical laughter out of him. People like Klaus don’t get that luxury.

It takes a moment for him to force himself out of the comfort of the warm water but he somehow manages, tugging on a pair of sweatpants he quite possibly stole from Diego’s room before booking it as far away from the Academy as possible.

There’s a moment of contemplation over his still very sweat-soaked shirt before he decides to forgo it and falls into bed next to Diego. His brother huffs an annoyed sigh but says nothing about Klaus removing himself from the bed, rolling into Klaus until he’s wedged firmly between his brother and the wall.

It’s a little odd just in that it’s not even something they did as kids but it’s nice and for once, Klaus knows well enough to keep his mouth shut.

Vanya is on her own bed, watching something or other on the tv quietly, just a calming buzz in the background. Klaus can’t see much from where his face is smushed into this absolute marshmallow of a hotel pillow but briefly remembers Ben sitting on the edge of the bed before Diego decided to crush Klaus into the wall.

He must have found interest in whatever Vanya is watching because he makes no effort to hold Klaus’ interest or offer the never-ending stream of commentary he has on everything these days now that only Klaus can hear him.

For just this second in time, he feels human again. Safe and cared for and like someone would give a fuck if he disappeared.

A commercial comes on with that distinctive minute change in volume and Klaus’ eyes flutter shut without any input on his part. Everything seems so far away.

When he opens them again, the trailer for the movie has ended and it’s switched over to some daytime talk show that he vaguely remembers Allison being into years ago. He’s only half-sure. The image itself is blurred from the wetness gathering in his eyes.

It’d been so long, he’d forgotten that feeling.

He wishes he still did.

—-

It’s years later before he sees any of his siblings other than Ben again.

To think, all it takes is Daddy’s tragic death and then they’re just one big happy family again, fist fighting and destroying sentimentally expensive property just like when they were kids. Even Five deigns himself to show up, running his mouth like he knows everything.

Klaus isn’t drowning anymore. He’s been living with water in his lungs for years now and it’s surprising how easy it is to live with the constant burn after you forget what it’s like to live without it.

Nothing’s really changed though.

They’re under the same roof again, really for the first time since Five disappeared, and everyone’s just counting down the minutes until they can get away and escape back to their own worlds. But for some reason, nobody actually goes and Klaus clings to this with a silent desperation.

He jumps at the opportunity to help Five. The money is a large factor, no doubt. Klaus isn’t in a position to turn his nose down at money but it’s also a chance to prove that he is capable of helping. And he does help, far more than anyone else could have in that office with that little coward of a man talking to  _his_  brother like a nuisance.

The cut on his forehead stings like a bitch while blood drips down his face and he grins down at that bitch with a victory he feels in his gut, radiating an energy he hasn’t felt since Academy days.

It’s still not enough. The world is ending, they’re banding together in a way that they haven’t since coerced into it as children and as always, Klaus isn’t invited to the party.

Diego thinks he can’t help. Luther thinks he can’t help. Five is sure he can’t help.

Even Vanya hasn’t said anything to him any of the instances that she’s been home, storming off with her weaselly little boyfriend. Klaus thinks back to her book all those years ago and the hurt of being excluded without understanding that the family only ever comes together when someone decides not to mind their own business.

There are never any open arms until you pry them open. Klaus isn’t sure why he continues to stick around.

Everything happens so fast.

Fear in the trunk of a car. Pain and withdrawal and more fear and resignation that he’s going to die here because no one knows or cares that he’s gone. They won’t believe him but Five’s not coming and Klaus knows that with a certainty he can’t apply to anything else.

Part of him thinks at least he’s buying them time. Being useful.

He only wishes Ben didn’t have to watch but Klaus is too sober and too scared to send him away and Ben won’t leave on his own.

Then Dave. Dave, who is kind and beautiful and listens to Klaus ramble of siblings he can never meet and understands when Klaus says ‘I hate them’ while crying his eyes out because the thought of never seeing them again, for real this time, is the only thing that comes close to comparing to the thought of leaving Dave’s side.

And then his own world is ending in gunshots and a bleeding chest and blank eyes that have only ever looked at him with kindness. Klaus experiences the kind of loss that steals all the oxygen from his lungs. Again.

Klaus learns what Five means when he says some things are inevitable in time. Klaus does not belong to the past and Dave doesn’t belong to the future. These things have a way of sorting themselves out.

It’s a romance meant to end in tragedy.

Other things aren’t meant to be. They’re not meant to be a family, evidently. But Klaus is a stubborn bastard and he’s already lost so much. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if they weren’t meant to be siblings. If they were always meant to fall apart. He doesn’t care who would and wouldn’t do the same for him.

Klaus will keep trying.

He dies for Luther despite knowing that Ben is wrong when he insists Luther wouldn’t give up on him because Luther was never there for him in the first place. He cries for a father who killed himself and presents selfishness as concerned sacrifice. Allison bleeds out on the floor of that fucking cabin and Klaus holds his brothers together while he shatters from the inside out as they floor it back home.

He sees Vanya locked in that box and truly hates Luther for the first time which is a shocking revelation. And he insists again that Vanya would never hurt anyone even though she’s hurt him because Vanya is scared and Ben wasn’t wrong.

People do uncharacteristic things under distress.

In the minutes before the world comes crashing down around them, when Allison is unknowingly distracting Vanya and Luther is leading them on a suicide mission to ambush her, Klaus is reminded of being a kid. Back when he kept himself stoned so couldn’t see the ghosts anymore, present and past, and Dad was beyond disgusted in him.

It was just him and Vanya left behind while the others went out to win Dad’s nonexistent affection.

He’d smoke a blunt and sit outside her door in the hallway and listen to her practice. Klaus is no Mozart. Klaus isn’t even sure he knows who Mozart is, but he thinks she sounds like something special. Mournful complicated sounds turn to chaotic notes dripping with anger only to calm themselves back down, almost embarrassed.

Vanya was touchy about her space then after years of being shut out of theirs so he never ventured closer but he wishes he had said something.

Sometimes Mom would find him and he’d stare at her feeling childish. He’s not useful like the rest of the Academy and he’s not talented like Vanya. She was programmed to nurture Vanya and then to raise the Academy. Klaus isn’t sure where he fits in that anymore.

She’d just smile softly and slide her fingers through his hair as she passed on her way to each of their rooms to collect laundry. He misses that.

Mom might be the nicest thing Dad ever did for them.

And they just left. Disappeared and never looked back because they convinced themselves that she was an illusion of a mother the way they were a sham of a family.

At the end of the world, Klaus is full of regret for the past. He regrets not trying harder, in everything. He regrets allowing himself to spiral. Regrets letting everything go unspoken. Dad was so shitty no matter what bullshit argument he feeds them but he was right in one thing.

He wasn’t the reason they fell apart.

Klaus thinks, as they stand in a circle holding each other with no certainty that Five can save them, that some things in time are inevitable but some things, like their family, are extraordinary.

He feels Ben’s hand on his shoulder and swears that they won’t regret the future.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://flea-market-goth.tumblr.com/)


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